


Sick Day

by LyingTurtle



Series: Goddard Business Casual [5]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Airplanes, Power Dynamics, Sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 18:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14526162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyingTurtle/pseuds/LyingTurtle
Summary: “You've got a fever” he announces, a hint of annoyance in his voice.“Your hands are just warm”“You're sick”“I'm fine” she turns away to sneeze into her folded arm.  When she turns back Kepler is straight on glaring at her.  “Okay” she admits, “I'm not feeling great”-Maxwell is sick, Jacobi watches Zootopia, and Kepler reminds everybody who's in charge.





	Sick Day

Alana Maxwell doesn't _do_ sick.  She has been recounted as both ‘the worst kind of patient’ and ‘the literal worst patient ever’ on numerous occasions.  She eats as healthy as one can while constantly on the move and working hours most would consider sleep deprivation torture.  She takes care to wash her hands and even wipes down her keyboard in between uses. After as many countries she's been to and biological warfare agents she's encountered, she considers herself to be more immunologically stable than the average person.

    There's something about being stuck in a stakeout operation for a week in a mold ridden abandoned building that really messes with her immune system though.

    “ACHOO!” Maxwell looks up to see Kepler and Jacobi both staring at her with equal amounts of suspicion and ‘oh shit’.

    “Alana, are you-”

    “No” she cuts Jacobi off quick, looking around for one of those complimentary hand sanitizer spots on the wall.  ‘Why does everything have to be in Mandarin?’ She thinks, before remembering they're in China..

    “You sound a little… Sniffly there” she grabs a wipe meant for the wiping down the trolleys and wipes her hands quickly before shoving it in her pocket.

    “I'm not” Kepler takes a step towards her, looking her up and down blatantly, her skin crawling under his gaze.  His hand feels warm and solid on her forehead, making her eyelids drop down in a response to the comfort.

    “You've got a fever” he announces, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

    “Your hands are just warm”

    “You're sick”

    “I'm fine” she turns away to sneeze into her folded arm.  When she turns back Kepler is straight on glaring at her. “Okay” she admits, “I'm not feeling great”

    The overhead announcer finally got to the English portion of the flight information and called out the departure status for their flight.  They made their way through to the check in process, getting through with their fake ID’s without setting off any alarms.

    As soon as Maxwell stepped onto the plane she knew she wasn't going to be having an easy time.  The stuffy air, the constant whirl and hum, the mixture of hot and cold air that wouldn't stop blowing on you no matter which way you turned.  Planes _sucked_.

    She found herself sitting on the isle seat of the two person row, Kepler beside the window.  Now she wanted to really die. She looked to Jacobi across the isle pleadingly but he just shook his head.  Kepler never gave up the window seat, there was no way to switch out of this.

    “Oh my god” she groaned, leaning her seat as far back as it would go which was apparently- click- two inches.  Great.

    “Are you alright, Dr. Maxwell?” The grin was audible in Kepler’s voice, enjoying the show of Maxwell falling into despair just a little too much.  Her head was pounding, the lights were awful, everything ached, and the tightness in her lungs made her chest ache every time she breathed.

    “How long is this flight again?” She leaned forwards, putting her head into her hands and willing the pulsing in her temples to stop.

    “About thirteen hours to DC”

“Please kill me” they must have been the last ones on because the plane doesn't take much longer to start up, pulling them up into the sky, every gust of force feeling like an anchor hitting her in the face.  She leaned back in her seat, willing it all away as her body just decided it would go through waves of aching.

All of a sudden the built up pressure bit her as her congested ear popped so painfully she flung a hand up to cover it, a sharp gasp escaping her.

“Open” Kepler instructed.  She didn't bother to open her eyes, just let her mouth drop.  The hard stick of gum was an intrusion at first but melted into sweetness in her mouth.  The tip of his finger dragged over her bottom lip as he pulled away. She resisted the urge to wipe her mouth in front of him.

“Thanks” she muttered, chewing to relieve the pressure in her ears.  She feels him slide his hand onto her forehead again, and this time she opens her eyes into slits to get a glance at him.  He doesn't _need_ to do this, she didn't magically change health conditions after boarding.

He's holding it there longer than he needs to, she knows it.  ‘I'm not Jacobi, you don't get to play this game with me’ she wants to say, biting her tongue only because Jacobi is sitting a foot away.  They had a back and forth, a game all their own. He'd give her the beach and she’d build him a castle. She didn't sign up for the touchy feely quantum mindfuck that the boys had going on.

His hand slides off her head, a small thoughtful sound in his throat to punctuate that there was no abnormal finding.  As much as she hates it she misses the pressure. She lets her eyes drift shut again, adjusting uncomfortably in the seat.  It was killing her not to pull out her laptop and start working over the plans for paradoxical avoidance strategies she had come up with in the taxi ride over.  She knew as soon as that first flash of screen lighting hit her retinas she'd be regretting it for the next twelve and a half hours.

“Psst, Jacobi” she leans her leg out into the aisle to kick him.  He pulls the headphones down off his ears, the beginnings of Zootopia playing on his screen.

“What's up Typhoid Mary?”

“I need paper and a pen”

“Uh, no can do.  I've got a napkin and a coffee straw if you want to try your hand at poking out some Braille though”

“Ugh, nevermind.  Just go back to your,” she gestured to the movie, “animated animal cruelty” he was about to open his mouth to say something but takes a glance over her shoulder and shuts up.

Maxwell feels Keplers arm reach over and pull down her chair tray, dropping a notepad and pen down onto it.  He leaned back into his seat wordlessly, watching with contentment as Maxwell froze up momentarily. ‘Say thank you like a normal person, say thank you like a normal person, dammit Alana stop staring at him’

“Your welcome” he offered first, a tilt to his lips that felt like laughter to her.

“Thank you” her fingers curled over the smooth metal of the pen, swearing that the last time she saw this pen it was buried in the throat of a guy in Istanbul.  He must have ordered more. ‘He's giving you sand. Build.’

She peeling back the sixth sheet of paper, tucking it around the stubbed top of the notepad and smoothing out the fold.  Every so often she can feel Kepler look to the plane window and watch her work in the dark reflection of the Atlantic. She doesn't mind it when they're in the office, she expects it more times than not.  But here now when they're crammed next to each other in a public space, it's surprisingly intimate. Intimate and unwelcome.

She writes ‘association by proxy’ on accident and drags a line of ink through it.  It's also around the sixth sheet of paper that she realizes her last few sentences were just repeating themselves, losing letters and making typos that a fourth grader could catch.  Frustrated, she tries to make her fiery brain mush correct the mistakes, only succeeding in darkening the already inked up page. This is it, she's officially reached the gates of hell.  Too sick to work and still with- she peeked over at the flight calculator in the hallway- eight hours to go. Dammit.

She doesn't realize she's leaning down until her arms bridge overtop of her tray, cheek meeting paper as she just lets her body slump.

“That’s rather undignified, Dr. Maxwell” she grumbled something in response but barely processed what he said.  It could have been an hour or a minute before a stewardess came pulling her cart by. She couldn’t tell how fast time was passing, everything seemed dragged in one long moment to her aching body.

The smell of food hit her like a train she once derailed into a government building.  Hot and stuffy packaged meals threatening to bring her stomach to a full loop.

“No food thank you, just a glass of water” Kepler ordered immediately, that sixth sense he had anticipating her discomfort before she could express it.  “Pick your head up” she forgot she was still on the tray and lifted her head so quickly that her vision blurred into a tunnel for a moment. When it came back there was a small plastic cup of water and Keplers hand as he retrieved the notepad and stuffed it in his bag.  Looks like he decided she was done working for this particular tropospheric adventure. “Drink” she knew she had been staring at it too long but she couldn't remember what it was she was supposed to do until he said something.

“Oh really, is that what it's for?” she muttered sarcastically, bringing the water to her lips and gulping it down, suddenly parched.  Usually a quip wouldn’t land her in good graces but he seemed willing to excuse her this time, just resigning to an amused grin.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine” her head pounded, eyes ached, chest heaved like a pile of bricks sat atop of it, every muscle in her body screamed with abuse, and on top of it all she was just a fraction too cold.

“Fine.  Interesting.  See I asked that because you’re sweating and shivering at the same time all while looking like you’d fall over if you weren’t sitting.  Care to comment?”

“I’m just _really_ excited to get back home” she grins, wondering if the plane was tilting or if that was just her.  His smile grows, eyes alive with amusement. She doesn’t like it. He leans in towards her, forearm bracing against the head of her chair just to really shove the ‘I’m in your space’ thing down her throat.

“You know, for someone who isn’t funny you have a great sense of humor” she swallowed, not sure what to say now, it didn’t seem like something she was really supposed to respond to.  He’s close in the way that makes her acutely aware of how human he is. Unshaved scruff somehow looking professional, the bits of color to his brown eyes proving he wasn’t just some well done android.  She only felt comfortable acknowledging that she was analyzing him because she could feel him doing it to her as well. She swallowed dryly, her throat on fire. When would he leave her be? “Don’t look to Jacobi” he muttered, catching the way her head began to tilt away from him, his voice soft and low.

Her heart began to race, alone in a crowded room.  Her and Kepler didn’t do _alone._  There was always Jacobi or a desk between them, a mission or a report to go over.  She didn’t go out of her way to seek him out in spaces where there wasn’t a necessary reason to, and she was glad he didn’t push for the same.  ‘Ebb and flow’ she thought, continuing on with her beach metaphor even though it had gotten old even to her.

“Stand up Dr. Maxwell” she had to blink, wondering if this was just the next part of the fever.  It was only when Kepler began to stand up that her feet started working and she hauled herself up using the headrest in front of her.  “Walk” he wasn’t using the ‘I’ll beat you to death’ voice but she almost wished he would if it meant something she understood. He let a hand rest onto her shoulder, passively guiding her towards the rear of the plane.  Confusion filled every step she took. He wouldn’t do something obnoxious in the middle of a plane right? They were safe, the mission was over, so why were they up and walking like someone was about to pull a gun on them?  Why wasn’t Jacobi with them?

She almost walks past the bathroom door he's pulling open before he redirects her into the small closet, shutting the door behind him.  Every synapse in her brain is firing now, attempting to decide whether she needed to start kicking and screaming or begging for mercy.

The space is too small for the both of them.  It's barely functional for one person but now with two it's impossible not to be impractically close.  She can feel the heat from his body even with the shocking cold of unheated air ventilation flooding the room, the dull roar of the wind rushing hundreds of miles against the wings of the plane audible now.

“Take your jacket off” her fingers curl around the zipper that's done up nearly all the way to her throat, the warm gray material serving as her best barrier against the outside world she couldn't thermoregulate against in her immunocompromised state.  Also it was comfy.

“What's happening?” she questioned bluntly, putting her free hand against the wall to steady herself as the world tilted slightly too far left for her liking.

“See, that is exactly what I wanted to ask you” the facade of amusement and smiles drained from his face like nectar in a sieve, turning accusatory and aggressive, “You take every opportunity to try and either question or defy me without going so far as to have a legitimate point to make” he grabbed the zipper to her jacket and yanked it down with enough force to punctuate the point he was trying to make, “You make my job difficult in ways it doesn't have to be.  I don't know where you got this notion that you're excused from team dynamic but that ends now”

“I don't- I don’t understand” she tried to search her memory to pick out any specific thing that could have upset him but her mind was like a blanket of fog.  He pulled the jacket off her arms, his palms running across her skin, heavy like iron.

“I feel like we could be closer, Alana.  You had no problems getting close to Jacobi, why not me too?” She can see all the teeth in his smile, daring her to talk about the elephant in the room.  This wasn’t about the mission, this was about _them_.

“You,” her chest heaved, a deep ache that felt like she was dragging embers though her bronchioles, “Kepler I'm really sick”

“I know” she let her eyes shut, hearing the water run and Kepler grab a paper towel.  She didn't know how hot she was running until he brought the cool cloth over her face, beads of water running down her neck and gathering at the hem of her tank top.  “But I would appreciate it if you would gain some perspective. Jacobi isn't the only person on this team. There's you, and there's me. Are we a team, Alana?” He runs a damp hand over her hair, somehow cooling the fire in her skull with just his touch.

‘Is this what it’s like to be Jacobi?’ she wondered, only realizing that her mouth moved at the same time when Kepler started chuckling.  He got a new handful of paper towels and ran them under the water purposefully tilted to ice cold.

“See, I knew you were smart.  Welcome to the team dynamic”

“You’re going to break me”

“No, I’m going to build you up as high as you can go” she wasn’t expecting her throat to tighten up like it did, “Isn’t that what you want?”

All at once she’s sitting at her middle school desk, hair in pigtails staring at her parents argue with her teacher, ending with the smuggled advanced algebra textbook in the trash.  Her head is pointed to the floor while her father screams, her MIT acceptance letter turning to shreds in his hands. She’s sitting behind her desk at NASH, staring down at her third research rejection.  Every bit of self loathing and indignation thrust into her fingertips as her nails raked across her skin.

‘He wants you stronger than everyone but him’ she thinks snidely, impressed with her thought processing for someone who didn’t know whether they were standing or laying currently.  He pressed the cloth against her shoulder, running down her arm to the tips of her fingers. The remaining water felt like beads of ice along her skin, making goosebumps rise as he copied it along her other arm and then over her chest, taking close care to avoid touching anything that could misconstrued his intentions.  He cups the side of her face in his hand, reminding her that she’s forgotten to open her eyes again.

“Alana” she feels the whisper against her skin, branding her with the heat of his breath, “We want the same thing.  Let me help you the way only I can” his other hand is resting on her hip, his body so close to hers it feels like it takes up all the space in the world.   _‘Quid pro quo, Clarice’_  she leaned forwards, pressing her lips gently to his cheek for a brief moment.  It was as chaste as she’s ever given a kiss to anyone but it took him by surprise enough to actually leave him without a quick remark.  Whatever the circumstances, he thought she was worth something. She wanted to think that too.

“I can't suddenly change every part of my personality you don't like just because you want me to” she admitted honestly, “But, we are a team” she paused for a long moment, feeling like there should be more.  “I trust you” he looked at her like a gem that sparkled, and she _devoured_ it.

“You never fail to deliver” he smiled as he opened up the door, taking a step out to allow her to exit.  There were two people waiting, giving them both a horrified look as they exited. Kepler smiled shamelessly at them, a hand resting on Maxwell's shoulder as he guided her back to their seats.

Somehow she felt like it had been a year since she had seen the plane and more fell than sat back down in her chair.  A glance at Jacobi found that the screen had turned dark and now his head was resting halfway onto the older woman in the chair beside him too polite to say anything.  Hilarious. She could sense Kepler moving around oddly but thought nothing of it until she heard the gentle but absolute command,

“Come here” Keplers back against the window of the plane, body angled towards her.  She leaned towards him, not hesitating but still finding reservation in the stiffness of her muscles as she leaned back against his chest.  Her head tucked into the crook of his neck, the chin coming to rest on her. He pulled his jacket off from atop the book bag at his feet, some dark green thing heavy with denim and lined thermally on the inside, wrapping it overtop of her.

‘It feels like him’ she thought, the weight and smell registering more like an extension of him than just the coat he seemed to always bring along.  Had she ever been this close to him willingly? She couldn't think of a time that he had done more than just the small possessive touches that she could see coming a mile away.  ‘Don't say anything stupid, Alana’ she tried to remind herself, feeling like she needed to say something before the numbing tendrils of sleep overtook her entirely.

“They think we had sex in the bathroom” stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I know.  Go to sleep”

“What if they complain to a flight attendant?”

“I'll handle it.  Go to sleep”

“I want to write something down” his arm looped around her like a seatbelt.

“Goodnight Dr. Maxwell”

 

-

 

“Well that wasn't that bad!” Jacobi groaned, stretching out his arms as the three of them walked out of the airport, a sleek black car waiting for them on the road.  “How are you feeling, Alana? You look like you got some rest” she glared down daggers into the side of his face.

“You abandoned me” she hissed, just about ready to strangle him depending on the next line out of his lips.  He was about to question her when Kepler came up from behind the both of them.

“Go back home, the rest of the day is yours.  I've got some business to attend to so we’ll debrief tomorrow” Kepler didn't look up from the phone in his hand, reading simultaneously.  Maxwell had already begun wondering about which take out she would order when she felt Kepler lean over beside her and press a small kiss to her temple so casually that the two of them were both stuck in complete shock, speechless.  “Alright, have a safe drive back” he was out of sight in a different car already driving away before their own honked and ushered them into the back seat.

Maxwell sat, stiff and mortified, aware that Jacobi hadn't stopped looking at her.

“Since when is that a thing?” He asked in the most collected voice anyone who's been on the verge of screaming could muster.

“Since I did it first” he leaned back against the seat, not saying anything else as they watched the highway roll by.  She would like give anything to know his feelings; disgusted, angry, horrified, confused… Jealous. “Jacobi I’m really sick” he let out a small sigh, leaning against the glass, suddenly more tired than she'd ever seen him.

“I know”


End file.
